Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

“Oh, Princess, there are Changelings involved in my quest, the Lord of the Changelings, in fact, and I would not have you in jeopardy.”

“And I would not have you go alone,” said Celeste.

Before Roel could again protest, Gilles strode in.

“Ah, you are awake, Roel. You, too, Princess.” Then he smiled and glanced at Celeste and added, “Unlike Henriette at the door. Your chaperone, I gather?”

“Oui.”

A wide grin lit up Gilles’ face. “Sound asleep she is, Princess, an ideal chaperone.”

Yet caught up in her determination to guide Roel to Mizon, Celeste graced her features with only a small smile at Gilles’ bon mot .

Gilles stepped to the bedside. “And speaking of sleep, Sieur Roel, you need to be doing that right now.”

“More sleep? After three days of such?”

“Oui,” said Gilles. He held the back of his hand to Roel’s forehead a moment and then nodded in satisfaction. “I told you before, it was a very virulent poison, and I would have you rest well this night.” He glanced at Celeste. “-You, too, Princess.” He then measured the chevalier’s pulse. As he released Roel’s wrist, he eyed the bowl of broth and asked, “Have you eaten yet?”

“This is my second,” said Roel.

“Finish it now, for I have a sleep-medick to give you.” Roel looked at Celeste and shrugged, and took up the broth and drank it down.

Gilles crumbled three dried petals into Roel’s cup, and poured in fresh tea. He stirred it a moment and set it before the knight. Gilles then turned to the princess and took her cup and did the same. When he returned it to her, Gilles glanced back and forth between the two and said, “The longer it stands, the worse it tastes.” Roel sighed and raised his cup to Celeste in salute, a salute she returned, and they drank it down, each making a moue in response to the flavor. “Gilles,” said Celeste, “you could have at least sweetened it with honey.”

Gilles grinned and said, “Ah, but, my lady, where would be the pleasure in that?”

Celeste laughed, and Gilles said, “And now, Princess, our patient needs his rest, as do you. There will be goodly time on the morrow and in the days after for you two to speak of whatever you will.”

Celeste sighed and stood. “Good eve, Sieur Knight.

Rest well.”

“My lady, on the morrow, then,” replied Roel.

Celeste made her way to the door leading to her own quarters, and as she opened it she said, “Oh, Gilles.

Waken Henriette and tell her that she can now retire, for I am safe in my own bed.” Smiling, Celeste closed the door behind.

Gilles pulled the bell cord, and Gerard and two lads appeared, and they carried away the tea set and the tureen and bowls and the bed tray and utensils. Gilles took up the candle and said, “I bid you good night as well, Sieur Roel.” And so saying, he left.

Lying abed, Roel peered out the window, the glitter of stars now diminished by the light of the just-risen moon.

Celeste filled his thoughts-her beautiful face, her slender form, her gentle but determined way-and he knew it would be a while ere he would fall asleep. . and the next he knew-

— there came a knock on the door.

Roel opened his eyes to see daylight streaming in through the window. Again came the knock, and Gilles entered. “Breakfast is awaiting, Roel, and you are expected.” Roel sat up.

“How do you feel?” asked Gilles.

“Quite good, though starved, Gilles.”

“No dizziness?”

“Non, though I haven’t taken to my feet yet.”

“Then I suggest you do so and be on your way.”

“But I have no clothes, and I need a bath and a shave,” said Roel.

Gilles grinned, and he stepped to a tall chifforobe and flung it open and gestured within. On one side hung clothes, and beneath the garments sat shoes. “Seamstresses have been at work ever since I said you would live. Cobblers, too.” Gilles pulled open drawers on the other side. “Undergarments and socks and the like are in here.”

Roel eased out of bed and cautiously stood. No dizziness assaulted him. “Will they fit?” Gilles laughed. “Oh, yes. You see, they measured you two days past, while you still had not awakened. I must say, the ladies, they found you quite, um, how shall I say?

Ah, yes, utterly pleasing. Indeed, quite the man.” Redness crept into Roel’s face.

Gilles smiled and said, “Now, about that shave and a bath, as long as we keep your wound out of the water. .”

He tugged on the bell cord, and moments later Gerard and a string of lads came bustling in, steaming pails in hand.

After finishing his third helping of eggs and rashers and well-buttered toast slathered with blackberry preserves, along with slices of apple and cheese and several cups of hot tea, Roel sighed in satisfaction and leaned back in his chair.

“Ah, Roel, I love to see a man eat. In that, you are much like my brothers,” said Celeste.

“We are all pigs, eh?” said Roel, grinning.

Celeste laughed. “Non. Instead, you all have healthy appetites.”

“I was famished, Princess, three days with nought but thin broth and bread crumbs. ’Tis not the best way to a man’s heart.”

Roel was dressed in a dark grey cotton shirt, grey to match his eyes. His black breeks were cinched by a silver-buckled black belt, and he was shod in black boots. Bathed and clean-shaven, his shoulder-length raven-dark hair yet a bit damp, he cut quite a handsome figure, and Celeste often found she was staring.

As for herself, Celeste wore a long-sleeved, pale green gown, and up and across a narrow inset white bodice panel, green laces zigzagged from waist to low neckline. Striking, she was, and her face and form took Roel’s breath away, and his gaze oft met hers.

They sat across from one another at a small table in a secluded, walled garden. Crocuses bloomed among moss-covered stones through which water trickled into a clear pool. A small willow tree leaned over the mere, its dangling branches astir in the springlike zephyr that had managed to climb o’er the vine-covered wall. Somewhere nearby a finch called for a mate, and was answered by the flutter of wings. And in the pale glancing light of the midmorning sun, Roel and Celeste looked upon one another, their two hearts beating as one.

“Princess, I-”

“Roel, I-”

They both spoke at once, and-

“After you-”

“After you-”

They did it again.

Roel made a motion as if buttoning his lip and pointed at Celeste, and she burst out laughing, as did he.

And finally, palm up, he gestured to her, inviting her to speak.

“I don’t know what I was going to say,” said Celeste, and again they both broke into laughter.

“Let’s go for a walk,” said Roel. “You can show me this estate of yours.”

“Oh, Roel, are you certain you can? You might reopen your wound.”

“Five stitches,” said Roel as he stood and stepped

’round the table. “That’s all it took for Gilles to sew me up, rather much like darning a sock. As I said, it was but a scratch, and surely I can take a stroll. After all, it was no short journey from my bed to this table.”

“But what of the poison?” asked Celeste, looking up at him.

“Ah, Gilles’ vile potions seem to have entirely rid me of that. Come, let us stroll awhile.” Roel stepped behind Celeste’s chair and pulled it back and handed her up. And then she was in his arms, and he leaned down and gently kissed her.

“Oh, Princess, I didn’t mean-or rather I did, but-” She kissed him again, and passion flared, and hearts hammered, and Celeste felt a glorious fire sweeping throughout her body.

Ignoring the fact that he felt himself coming erect, Roel pulled her tight against him and kissed her deeply, and he wanted nothing more than to take her then and there.